


A Young Wolf

by Hawkflight



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-09
Updated: 2014-05-30
Packaged: 2018-01-24 04:17:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1591427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hawkflight/pseuds/Hawkflight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She's tempted to run the name over her lips when she learns it, Jaqen H'ghar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So for this story it continues pretty much from where The Whispering Passage left off, it also diverges from canon a bit regarding Arya, and what happens there. Everything else that goes on in the world still happens though. Ages for this correspond with the tv show.

Arya Stark paced the length of her room.

How was she supposed to keep her father safe when he didn't listen to her? She had even told him about the wolves and lions. Obviously those two from the dungeons were plotting something that included her family and the Lannisters. If a guard wasn't stationed at her door she would have raced off to the king, to warn him that the current Hand, her father was in danger. They had mentioned killing the last Hand afterall. She couldn't bear the thought of her father dying.

That wasn't the only thing that occupied her mind though. She couldn't do anything to help so her thoughts wandered. Back to an alley, a strange man that smiled at her before slipping out of her life just as easily as when he had entered it for a few seconds. It had to be the strangest encounter she had ever had in King's Landing, and that was saying something. Especially since she had caught sight of Joffery and Sansa walking hand-in-hand down a hallway the other day to a balcony. Just thinking about it made her stomach curl in on itself.

With a sigh she sat back on her bed, staring up at the ceiling.

What really bothered her was that she could have sworn that man had followed her back to the Red Keep. As if making sure she wouldn't say anything about their encounter. Wouldn't tell a single guard what she knew, and she hadn't.

She could only hope that he would leave her alone now that she had kept her word. The last thing she needed after hearing about all the plots in the dungeon was someone trying to kill her as well. Some man whose name she didn't even know.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most of the dialog is from the show, simply because these scenes couldn't go any other way, and one from the books.

Wood clattered on the stone floor and she felt a sharp sting on her palm from the swing that had hit the practice sword from her hands. It all buzzed in the back of her head as she remembered how Jory had been killed days ago.

Had his sword been taken from his hand as well? Metal ringing on metal filled her ears from all the times she had watched her older brothers fight in the courtyard. Had he still had his sword? She would like to think so, that he had stood a chance against the person that had killed him, reportedly the Kingslayer himself. It had probably been a dirty underhanded trick. Jory had been a man of honor like everyone in her father's service, he would have fought honorably just like those in the North. A thing she had yet to see here in the South.

Her own father was using a crutch even now from those same tactics devised by the Lannisters. A spear through the leg, metal piercing skin, the shaft of wood sinking in to the flesh. It made the own back of her leg prickle at the thought.

"Dead girl," Syrio Forel tapped at her shoulder with his wood sword, "if you do not pay attention you will die." The sword lifted as Arya moved to go and get her own sword, still wondering if her father really had enough guards here at King's Landing. She stood up with her fingers now curled around the hilt and turned to her Dancing Master. "Keep your eyes on me and look dead girl. If you do not see me you will not see death coming for you."

She frowned but raised her gaze to meet his, "I always see death coming for me," she tightened her grip on the sword.

"Death comes for us all child," his sword raised and she turned with her side facing him. Smaller target, the words whispered through her mind right before he lunged forward and she brought her sword across her body to block.

The clash of wood echoed through the room for awhile, until the opening of a heavy metal door cut through what had started to sound like a melody to her ears. "Arya Stark," Ser Trant walked into the room, metal armor clinking as he moved, "come with us, your father wants to see you." The Knight of the Kingsguard stopped just a full grown man's length away, if that man was lying on the floor.

The fact that her father wanted to see her it what made her step forward, forgetting the session of sword play in that moment. Was he all right? What if someone had stuck another spear through him? Or was it simply time to leave? Had the servants finished packing their clothes into the carriage?

A arm moved to block her path and she glanced up at Syrio, backing up a few steps as he spoke to the Ser Trant as more soliders filed into the room, "And why is it, that Lord Eddard, is sending Lannister men in place of his own? I'm wondering."

"Mind your place Dancing Master," Ser Trant spat at the Braavosi, "This is no concern of yours."

But it was hers, "My father wouldn't send you," Arya said, knowing the words were true as she spoke them. They were Lannisters, if Jory was still alive her father would have sent him in his stead. With the captain dead his replacement would have come instead as long as his services weren't needed elsewhere. She raised the sword still in her hand, "And I don't have to go with you if I don't want."

Her words were met with laughter from the Kingsguard, "Take her."

One of the Lannister men stepped forward when he issued the order, "Are you men or snakes that you would threaten a child?" Syrio questioned as the man continued to step forward.

"Get out of my way little man."

"I am Syrio Forel." Pride laced every word.

"Foreign bastard."

The soldier unsheathed his sword only to be knocked to the ground before he could even begin to use it.

"And you will be speaking to me with more respect." Syrio asserted, turning now to face the other soldiers that had begun to slowly advance, unhinged by how easily their fellow warrior had fallen.

"Kill the Braavosi. Bring the girl." Ser Trant ordered.

"Arya," her gaze moved to Syrio, "child, we are done with dancing for the day. Run to your father."

Chaos ensued after those words, blurs of red and gold as the soldiers moved forward and Syrio practically danced around them, sword striking at any weaknesses in their armor. The room didn't have time to fall silent when the last one was on his back like the others.

A snort came from Ser Trant, "Bloody oafs," his sword was drawn and Arya took a step back.

"Come with me, run." she said, there was a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach as the Kingsguard drew near to Syrio.

"The First Sword of Braavos does not run," Wood and steal swords met and Arya could only stand frozen as they striked and blocked until steal sliced through wood, a large chunk of the practice sword falling to the floor. "What do we say? To the God of Death?"

The answer was instantly on her lips, "Not today."

"Go."

Arya turned and ran down a narrow staircase into the Keep. Her feet hitting the stone steps was the only sound as she moved swiftly through the halls, always heading down, not daring to make a sound. Not today, kept repeating in her head as she stopped momentarily at a landing. Two paths stretched infront of her, one leading up and towards shouting. The other to darkness and quiet. Arya chose dark passage, running down steps until she was on the ground floor and made her way to the stables.

She slowed when she saw what greeted her; dead bodies of servants and her father's men lying on the ground, the contents from the carriage still on the ground. They hadn't stood a chance. Her eyes fell on one of the open chests, it was hers, dark clothes spilling across the ground like blood. Just like the bodies. She came to a halt momentarily, still staring at the open chest. Hers. "Needle."

She threw the wood sword to the ground, crouching down to sift through the articles of clothing, "There she is."

Arya glanced up when a boy walked out from the stables. "What do you want?" she asked, but turned back to the chest, needing to find the sheath that held her sword.

"Want you wolf girl, come here."

Feeling a sense of frustration she turned to look back over her shoulder, "Leave me be. My father's a Lord he'll reward you."

She was already facing the chest once more, hands getting more frantic in their search. "She'll reward me." A hand grabbed her just as she settled her fingers over familiar steel. "The Queen."

Arya pulled the sword from it's sheath as she stood up, turning to face the boy, "Stay away!" she shouted, feeling Needle slip through the boy like butter.

His eyes widened, a slight groan coming from him as he looked down and she followed his gaze to the thin sword sticking out of him. His hand was wrapped around the blade, as if that would dull his pain. "Take it out," he said, gaze rising and she met it, staring for a second as blood turned his tunic red.

With a gasp Arya pulled back and away, watching as the sword slid from his body that fell to the ground. Her heart was hammering away in her chest. The boy was dead.

The realization hit her hard and fast, then she heard the distant sounds of shouting and clashing of metal. Her father's men were still fighting, but there was no telling what had happened to her father. She turned from the stables and ran from the courtyard of the Red Keep, into the dungeon, and out into the surrounding city of King's Landing. Arya had gotten herself lost in the maze of streets and passages before, it wouldn't be too difficult to do it again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Few things from the tv show then we're heading off to non-canon land.

She picked at feathers, pulling them from the dead pigeon. Little bits still got left behind and Arya scowled at the thought of having to pick them out of her teeth again. It left a bad taste on her tongue and she would rather not think of what caused it.

She lowered her head as Gold Cloak passed infront of the small alcove she had squeezed herself into last night when it started raining. Her clothing was still damp and sticking to her skin. The Queen Regent may be looking for her but there was no way any of her servants would recognize Arya now.

Dirt clung to her clothes, the spots even darker where rain water still clinged to it, there were small tears where the fabric was thinnest. Her hands were stained from dirt as well, less so than the rest of her skin that her clothes didn't cover. She had gone to the edge of the ocean to clean them, but dirt still clung under her nails. There were dirt marks all over her face and her hair was unkempt, hanging down in clumpy strings.

It would be hard for anyone to recognize her who hadn't seen her before, and even then - she imagined - only her family could see through the dirt and wrinkled cloth.

She pulled the last feather from the pigeon, hoping to find another lone burning fire tonight to cook the morsel when a hand snatched out from the crowds and grabbed it from her. "Hey!" she shouted, scrambling to get out from her nook. "That's mine!" By the time she had rearranged her legs the boy in an even worse state of wear than her had disappeared into the crowds.

No one had stopped him, and why would they? Just a street urchin stealing from another of his kin. It must happen every day.

Now that she was out and her stomach still empty for the day Arya started walking along the streets, eyeing the pigeons and cats that chased after them. Her gaze fell over the signs of taverns, belly rumbling each time she passed one.

Bells had started ringing as she walked and the people around her seemed to pick up their pace, moving more quickly, like mice that had caught a whiff of cheese. She bit at her lip, pushing down the image of cheese from her mind and the crackers that followed it. Her brow furrowed when she noticed a baker leave his stand, following the tide of mice. Arya's mouth watered and she wondered for a moment if the Gods would forgive her if she were to step over and snatch a burnt piece.

A crowd of people surged infront of her view of the stall and she looked away quickly. She would find another pigeon and eat it raw if she didn't come across an unattended fire.

Her gaze still wandered to the next tavern as the people thinned out. The name of the establishment just as forgettable as the other hundred she had seemed to pass by. Wood panel doors had been thrown open by some of the occupants when the bells started, only a few men and women sat at the tables now, drinking stale mead and eating around the rotten spots of their food. It wasn't a high establishment to say the least.

She paused in the frame of the door though, staring at the back of the lengthy room. There had been a stripe of white in the dark and she caught sight of it again when the man turned. Her gaze locked with his, immediately recognizing the murderer.

Arya took a step back, intending to walk away when she was josteled back forward to her previous position, "Stay out of the way! Stupid-Hey!" Some children had run infront of the angry man, shouting about Baelor and the Hand of the King as they passed, sounding a lot like one of the town criers.

She froze for a moment, the Hand, her father was at the Sept. Arya turned from the tavern doors and started running to the courtyard, pushing her way through the large crowd to climb up onto the pedestal supporting the statue of king Baelor so she could see the raised platform and-

Her father! He had just stepped from a building and was being led through the crowd to the platform. She clung to the leg of the statue as she watched the people of King's Landing shout at him. Her own father had turned to one of them, dressed completely in black, appearing to say something before the guards pushed him forward.

With a glance at the person she noticed it was Yoren, part of the Night's Watch and he had just caught her gaze. She looked away quickly back to her father who was now climping the steps. Her sister was standing beside the Queen dressed in a light blue robe. That had to be a good sign, didn't it? Even with the people shouting, "Traitor!" all around her.

"I am Eddard Stark," her gaze snapped to her father, now without guards standing right beside him. Another good sign, it must be! She had even seen Sansa smile a bit a second ago. "Lord of Winterfell, and Hand of the King."

There was a brief pause, an obvious exchange was made between her father and sister, him looking to her for Sansa to nod her head. Arya sucked in a breath, waiting for them to realize her father wasn't guilty of his crimes.

"I come before you to confess my treason," confusion racked through her, "In the sights of gods and men. I betrayed the faith in my King and the trust of my friend Robert. I swore to protect and defend his children. But before his blood was cold, I plotted to murder his son," Arya's eyes widened. Simply because it couldn't be true, she knew it was a lie. "And seize the throne for myself."

One of the people in the crowd threw a stone at his head and Arya could barely keep in the shout that so desperately wanted to come from her lungs. Instead she wrapped her fingers around Needle's hilt as her father continued speaking,

"Let the High Septon and Baelor the Blessed bear witness to what I say. Joffery Baratheon is the one true heir to the iron throne. By the grace of all the Gods, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm."

The cries of the crowd grew for a moment, only to quiet when the Grand Maester Pycelle spoke up, "As we sin, so do we suffer. This man has confessed his crimes in sight of gods and men. The gods are just, but, Beloved Baelor taught us that they can also be merciful," her grip on Needle loosened, "What is to be done with this traitor, your grace?"

Joffery Baratheon now held her attention without even having to raise his hand in acknowledgement like he did. "My mothers wishes me to let Lord Eddard join the Night's Watch, stripped of all titles and powers he would serve the realm in permanent exile. And my Lady Sansa, has begged mercy for her feather. But they've the soft hearts of women!" Arya felt her heart begin to sink, "So long as I am your King, treason shall never go unpunished! Ser Illyn, bring me his head!"

The shouts of her sister, the words of the Queen were drowned out to the back of her mind as Arya stared at her father and the people calling for his head. This couldn't be happening, it _couldn't_. She needed to-

As Arya started to crawl between the statues legs she felt a pull on her tunic that sent her falling from the pedastal to crash into a warm body, to have an arm wrap around her chest and start pulling her back into the crowd. "No-"

A hand covered her eyes, a familiar voice speaking above her own, "A girl needs to disappear."

Even as the man dragged her throught the crowd, her vision full of nothing but darkness she could hear Sansa's cries that echoed the ones in her own head, "Stop! Please! Stop! No! Stop it! Stop! Please! Joffery stop it please!" The pounding of her heart did nothing to dull the sound, the slice of a blade through flesh.

"No," she murmured, reaching up to try and tear the fingers away so she could see but they didn't budge. "Let me go, I have to-"

"A girl can't do anything." She sucked in a breath, her mouth closing on it's own as she was unable to force it to move anymore.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Commenting is caring.

Her feet seemed to float over the ground, maybe they did. Maybe the man had adjusted his hold on her, was carrying her over the dirt paths of King's Landing. Maybe her feet were simply moving on their own... maybe... she didn't even know. Her mind was just blank, the sound of a sword slicing through flesh repeating in her ears over and over again.

There was a series of dull rings in the background, metal hitting a table. Arya could feel her body come to a halt for a moment. Voices exchanged words next to her, she heard them, but she couldn't make sense of what was being spoken. She just knew she was moving again in a few seconds, floating once more. Unsure if her feet were touching the ground or not, if she was climbing up stairs or just floating higher.

The feeling finally went away when her head, back, and thighs, hit something resembling the fabric of her own clothes. If there was less dirt that is.

"Is a girl still there, or is she here?"

The words lanced through her mind and suddenly it was quiet. Besides the clatter of plates and forks from downstairs, the footsteps seeping up inbetween the floor boards, it was quiet in the room. The recurring noise was gone and she blinked, looking towards a ceiling.

Spider webs clung to the corners, she could see one of the occupants above her, dangling on a thread from the ceiling, spinning lazily in the air. It's long legs curling in and out as it hung there, waiting for a fly to slip in through the cracked window to her right.

Turning her head just slightly she could see a wall of stone beyond it, any glass that might have once resided in the panels had been broken off and taken from the wood. The smell of the city was pouring into the room from the opening and she crinkled her nose after a moment. It seemed worse than normal, she must be deep in Flee Bottom.

Arya turned her head slowly, gaze settling on a man that was currently sitting in a chair adjacent to the bed. "You," it was that same man, from the passage, who had been sitting in the back of the tavern. Red hair, white strip on his left, light blue eyes looking back at her, a green cloak now wrapped over his shoulders instead of the black she remembered from the alleyway. "Why did you bring me here?"

His lips twisted up into a small smile, "To disappear."

She blinked. He had said the same thing back at the Sept. The Sept of Baelor... She sucked in a breath, "My father's dead," the words were out of her mouth before she could stop herself. Her eyes only widened as she looked at him, wondering what was going to happen after she had said that so brazenly, but it had just slipped out. "Are you going to take me to the Queen?" There had to be a high reward on her head. The Queen had to be looking for her since her sister had been standing next to her during the... the...

"Queen Regent," the word execution dropped from her mind. "Joffery is to be King once he's married Sansa," there was a slight pause, "your sister."

Her lungs seemed to collapse, air no longer filling them. He knew who she was. Not that she had doubted it before, but now she knew for certain. "You want the reward money from the Queen Regent then." Arya said, glancing to the window as she spoke. How far was the drop to the street? The question didn't really need an answer, if he was after the money she was jumping.

"Would the girl like to come with me to the Red Keep? A man takes her reward money, she takes his. Maybe they have enough to bribe their way out of King's Landing, yes?" She stared at him for a moment, mouth agape. Her escape route had slipped right out of her mind once she heard his words that were said in such a serious tone. When he started laughing she wasn't sure who's sanity she should be questioning. "A man has no need for money."

"Then why?" Arya asked, still trying to wrap her mind around this new situatuion she found herself in.

"A girl kept her word. She didn't say anything to the Gold Cloaks, they didn't know where the man was. Now the man is returning the favor." That's right, back in the alley she had given him her cooperation. Of course at the time she thought he would slice her throat if she didn't. "If you stay here the Queen will eventually find you, and the debt will remain unpaid."

She blinked, taking a moment to clear her throat, "You'll get me out of King's Landing then?"

There was that small smile again, "A man has said."

Arya could hardly believe her ears. He would take her out of this place? Away from the Lannisters, her dead father, her... "Sansa," she blurted and shot up into a sitting position to feel a hand on her shoulder a second later.

"They are looking for you, you can't help her." She turned to glance at him, seeing he had leaned forward in the chair while attempting to restrain her. Arya tried to speak but he spoke over her, "A girl cannot do anything for her sister. If she goes out that door now the Gold Cloaks will find her."

She sighed, because he was right. "I need to do _something_."

"A girl needs to leave," she started to get up but the hand on her shoulder pushed her back down, "Not right now. Rest, go clean up, be ready when night falls." The hand finally removed itself from her shoulder and she could hear him get up from the chair.

"What about you?" she asked, gaze following him across the room to the door.

"A man will have your way out when a girl sees him next." He offered up a smile just before opening the door to close it behind him with a soft thud.


End file.
